


Soft Epilogue

by KL_1819



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, Force ghosts help with parenting, Hugs for everyone that needs one, Just everyone being happy because they deserve it, M/M, Polyamory, Rey may be adopted, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but she is NOT a Palpatine, like big canon divergence, no beta we die like troopers, she's just some kid who's bio parents suck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 01:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29627277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KL_1819/pseuds/KL_1819
Summary: A number of oneshots set in the same universe as my other fic Yet I Must Scream.Not required reading for these. These are just sweet prompts to read cause I think we all need some happiness and comfort media right now.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin/Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker, Finn/Rey (Star Wars), Leia Organa/Han Solo, Mara Jade/Din Djarin, Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	1. Green, Purple, and Black

“No, you’re still treating it like a sword. You need to treat it more like an...extension of yourself,” Luke said, watching Din straighten. He had gotten better at reading his body language, how the tensing of his shoulders and slight flexing of his hands meant he was getting annoyed. At this point, Luke was pretty sure the helmet had morphed into a glare somehow. 

“It  _ is  _ a sword,” Din argued. The darksaber clutched in his hand hummed as if taking offense to being called such. “And I didn’t even want it.” Luke held up his hands in surrender.

“I understand,” he said. They’d had the conversation, or rather Luke and Mara had listened to Din vent, about Bo-Katan more than enough times. Even if Din hated the thing, Luke had never been able to get over how beautiful it was. Mara teased him constantly, about how every time Din let him hold it he would run it over in his hands, letting his eyes linger over the blade that looked like a sliver of space itself. He can’t help it. Aside from Obi-wan’s and his father’s, this is the only lightsaber he’s held that was made before the Purge. 

“Keep your stance wide,” Mara called from the sidelines. She always insisted on watching them practice, though he was never sure if it was if she could watch him or Din. Probably both of them. Luke rolled his eyes and ignited his own saber, green light shining along the grass, and shifted into a ready stance. 

There had been a time when Din had been worried about hurting Luke or Mara when they sparred. Now he was always ready to fight them, and he didn’t hold back. 

The two of them lunged at each other, black clashing green. Din backed away from the stretch of the blond’s saber, moving low and swiping at Luke’s legs. Luke jumped, only to catch an elbow into his shoulder, throwing him off balance and sending him careening to the right. Twirling his hilt in his hand, he was able to block, the strength of the other man straining the tension of his wrist. Moving quicker than any normal person would be able, Luke moved away, attacking with much more force behind his blows. Aiming for the lower section of the darksaber’s blade, Luke curled his own inward, forcing Din to let go or risk losing a finger. As the weapon flew, Luke dropped low, knocking Din’s feet out from under him, righting himself and letting the tip of his green blade hover under Din’s chin. 

Both men were breathing heavily. Din tilted his head up to get away from the heat of the blade, allowing Luke to see a single strip of his skin. He smiled wide before shutting off his lightsaber, leaning down and helping him up. “That was better! You’re getting the hang of it!” Din only let out a long suffering sigh in response. 

Mara walked over, tossing the hilt of the darksaber from hand to hand. “Let me give teaching a try, alright?” She passed the hilt to Din, coming behind him and wrapping her arms around him. “Both hands on the hilt like normal,” she said, her hands going from his fists up to his arms. “Shoulders back.” One hand between his shoulder blades, one of the small of his back. “Straight until you have to move.” Using her feet she gently nudged his ankle until his legs were apart to a width she deemed appropriate. “There we go. When you move you want to move fast, be grounded. You don’t have the advantage of the Force, so you have to make up for it.” Luke watched Din tense and then relax into her touch; not a tensing of annoyance, but just him getting used to such casual contact. He was getting better since he’d settled down to be with Grogu, though Leia assured him it was because both him and Mara were so physically affectionate already. 

Din slightly nodded in response. Luke smirked. Yes, Din was fantastic to be around and it had taken him a lot of time to warm up to the two Jedi, but it was oh so fun to tease him. “Maybe we should show him, Mara,” he said. She nodded, she was always quick to catch on, and violet light was reflecting off her face as she stalked over to him.

“I thought you’d never ask, darling,” she nearly purred. 

It was less of a battle and more of a show. The two of them had trained together for a long time, Mara being the only other grown Jedi he’d found, and honestly both of them rather liked to show off. Leia made fun of them for it, but she was married to Han, so she couldn’t really talk at the end of the day. 

When they finished, green and purple disappearing, Din was watching, visor never leaving the two of them as they walked back toward him. “So what did you think?” Mara asked, clipping her saber to her belt, a sly look on her face. Din seemed to break out of a trance, jumping slightly at the sound of her voice. 

“Oh, um, you both...fight...good.” Luke stifled a laugh, Mara slung an arm around both their shoulders as they all turned back toward the main complex.

“Aw, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Djarin,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him like she was some love interest in a holodrama. 

“Hey, it was a joint compliment!” Luke pointed out. “He likes to watch both of us.” He winked, and Mara snorted. 

“ _ Dank Ferrik _ , you two are impossible,” Din muttered, though, of course, he did not move away. 


	2. Return to Tatooine (For the Fifth? Maybe like Sixth Time)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din wants Luke and Mara to get along with his friends, even though one of them tried to kill Han a while back. It'll probably go fine.

Everyone has their own personal thoughts about the Razor Crest. 

Han thinks it’s a beauty in its own right, and the only reason he hasn’t challenged Din to a race yet is because he knows none of them will ever let him forget it if he loses. Leia calls it a piece of junk in the same affectionate way she addresses the Falcon, and the glare she’s given interns that call it such in a non affectionate way could probably level cities. Lando suggested putting into the pot on the next sabacc night, and remembered quickly after that Din had a rather large amount of weapons on his person. Luke has begged Din to let him fly it more than once, only to be met with what she would describe as exasperated fondness. It’s the stark difference between Luke’s X-Wing and his own ship that makes Din nervous; they surely don’t handle the same, and his nerves outweigh Luke’s arguments about how the Force will help him fly despite it. 

Mara does not have any particularly strong ones, she’s seen worse and she’s seen better, she’s flown worse and flown better. The little gremlin that’s always switching hips likes it more than the bed in the new school, and it makes Din happy, so she can’t really complain. She hasn’t spent a lot of time in it to begin with, but of course, there is no time like the present. 

If anything, she has to say it’s roomy. Mara remembers, fondly now, the first time she met Luke and agreed to go with him. He’d flown there in his X-Wing, because obviously he had only come in the X-Wing, and he’d awkwardly suggested they fly back with her sitting in his lap. She’d punched him in the shoulder,  _ he  _ actually ended up sitting on  _ her _ , and they could have a good laugh about it now. 

She resists the urge to bring it up, all three of them in the cockpit of the Razor Crest. The world around them has smeared into the blue and white of hyperspace that she’s grown used to after so long. Din maneuvers with skill, fingers dancing over the control panel rather quickly, switching them to autopilot. Mara likes to compare the two flight styles- Din and Luke’s, how one is more thought and the other reflex. They’ve asked her, occasionally, who she thinks is the better flyer; the answer is always the same, one of her signature smug looks and absolute silence. 

Distantly, a robotic ding flies up from the cargo hold. Din has a thing about droids, though Mara does have to admit that he’s getting better with R2, and the little astromech isn’t allowed in the cockpit. Luke sighs, leans out the door and looks down. “What’s going on buddy?”

_ Bo weep! _

“I’ll be back in a sec. Leia’s calling.”

“Ooo, was there a senate incident,” Mara asked. 

“Did Han do something stupid again,” Din questioned. 

“That caused a senate incident,” she added.

“If you’re right you owe me five credits, since I have to deal with it.” Luke’s voice slightly echoed up the ladder as he headed down. Mara rolled her eyes, though technically she was slightly of the opinion that Leia should pay them all for dealing with her husband. Honestly, a man could only have so many enemies before his extended family got annoyed of killing them. 

“Have you, ah, been there before?” Din asked in the silence. Mara moved up to the seat beside his so he could see her better; the helmet was murder on the peripherals.

“Tatooine? No, but Luke has told me stories,” she admitted. Din drummed his fingers over his leg, a rare sign of nerves.

“Do you think he minds? Going back?” The filter over his voice made it hard to determine tone, but the Force around him was roiling with fear and worry. She rolled the question over in her mouth; Luke’s stories had been about his family, relatively happy, but she knows horrible things have happened there for the Skywalkers. Leia will rant about her earned title of Hutt Slayer until she can’t talk, but she still refuses to wear anything that exposes skin above the knee in public. Han still has trouble with his eyes on rainy days. Luke, well, she’s had to wake him up from more than one nightmare involving his family farm burning. 

“I think it might be...difficult,” she says gently, already moving forward and clasping Din’s hand when she feels his worry spike. “But, he’ll have us if it gets too difficult. I will know if it gets too difficult.” She winks, tapping a finger against her temple. “I will certainly let you know if he needs us.” His worry dies down at the right moment, the noises of Luke climbing the ladder echoing up to them. 

“Some planet wanted to open up a link with the Jedi, and obviously that’s a yes, but we have to do things  _ properly _ and- Is something wrong,” he asked, cautiously walking over. Leaning down, he softly pressed his lips against Mara’s forehead, then moving aside to press his own forehead gently against Din’s helmet. 

“Not at all,” Mara said, shielding up just in case Luke was a little curious. “Din was just telling me what he thinks of the sunsets.” Luke’s face lit up. Of all the positive things he had mentioned to her about his home, the sunsets had always been at the forefront; he never stopped comparing the color to her hair. 

“You need to be away from real settlements to get the best view,” he says, “that’s when the whole desert turns this shining golden color and…”

Luke continued with his monologue, because only Luke Skywalker could talk so long about sunsets, and Din reached over and gently squeezed her hand in thanks. Sometimes it was hard having someone that couldn’t just beam their thoughts right into your head, but truly, sometimes Mara liked the physical contact more. 

*

Yes, Luke had told her about the sand. Yes, she knew it was a desert planet. 

No, she had not expected this much. 

The grains had gotten into the plating and the landing equipment; somehow under the collar of her shirt and down the openings of her boots. Luke had the nerve to give her a  _ look _ when she huffed in annoyance, and the only reason she didn’t fling sand at him was because it’d be a bitch to get all the grains out of his hand. He smiled at her, then looked up at where Din had parked, his mouth flatlining. “You didn’t tell me Boba was...here,” he said, carefully. 

Boba was already a sour subject, had always been since she’d met the twins, but she could admit it was a little funny that Din was close with the guy that Han Solo had a personal grudge against. The holo calls between Din and Boba to arrange this meeting had left the former churning with annoyance and exhaustion. Luke had relented to meet only if they were all allowed to keep their sabers; Mara wasn’t sure it was such a good idea now. She didn’t recognize the building that had got Luke feeling so distressed, and Din didn’t seem to realize what was a big deal either. “He told me he got a new place on planet. Didn’t ask for specifics.” 

“It’s Jabba’s. Or, it  _ was _ Jabba’s,” Luke said, quietly as they walked towards the doors. Din turned to them for a moment before looking away. They’d both heard the story. Nearly everyone is the galaxy had heard the story. 

“You think someone took over?” Mara asked. The interior of the place was dark and blessedly cool compared to the outside, but the knowledge of what had happened here made an extra chill run down her spine. 

“Maybe,” Luke muttered in her ear, hand itching just a bit closer to his saber with every step. Din reached over, grasped his hand, slightly squeezed it. Luke and him exchanged a slight nod as dim light came into view. The room they walked into was large and probably could have held a great number of people, but was nearly empty, except for the large throne on a dais. Mara was honestly expecting something large and monstrous, just like Leia had described Jabba to her. 

The man in green armor that jumped down and embraced Din was quite the opposite. “Djain!” he said, his eyes then roving to Luke and then Mara. “ _ Jetii _ ,” was said coldly to him. A smirk and a wink and a nearly purred “ _ Ge’tal _ ,” to her. She smirked. Din had slowly but surely been trying to teach both of them Mando’a; she remembered enough to know what he had called her. Cheekily, she winked, twirling a curl of her hair around her finger as she did so. 

“I hope you’re running this place better than Jabba did,” Luke said, hands clasped in front of him, gloved hand in front of flesh one. It was a stance that usually preceded someone with a lightsaber held against their throat, and as much as Mara liked watching it and how much she hated diplomacy, she knew when it was needed. Boba just smiled cruelly at him; the scars along his cheeks and forehead stretching with the movement. She wondered who, or what, had given him such injuries. If they had walked away. 

“Anyone could run this place better than Jabba.” He shrugged, though Mara didn’t miss the light of savagery in his eyes. She knew enough about the Fett family to know it was warranted. “Fortuna was, until I put a hole in his heart.” Luke didn’t look away from him, his face the eerie calm it always was before he fought. Both her and Din were as tense as rubber bands about to snap; she wasn’t sure if Din would try to keep Luke away from Boba or Boba away from Luke.

“Fortuna was rather...weak-minded,” Luke joked, waving his metal hand in a way that mimicked the beginning of a mind trick. Boba actually let out a laugh at that, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder rather roughly. 

“We’re square,  _ Jetii,  _ as long as the weapon stays unlit.” It was certainly more of a threat than a stipulation, but none of them were really surprised. 

“As long as you’re not continuing Jabba’s slave trade, I won’t have to press a button.” 

“Bah!” Boba waved away Luke’s concerns, turning away from them at last. “My right hands would skin me if I ever thought of it.” He put his fingers in his mouth, let out a sharp whistle that echoed throughout the massive building, and two pairs of footsteps started up after the sound died off. “I’ll introduce you, they’re much friendlier than me. Almost.” 

Mara liked the woman that walked out almost immediately. Her eyes had a sharpness to them, like just her stare could wound you, and she probably had a tongue to match. The long range rifle across her back didn’t make Mara nervous at all, she held it the same way Luke and Din held their weapons- more like a comfort that could be deadly than something only meant to kill. Din had mentioned her before, a sniper by the name of Fennec. The fact that she perched herself on the arm of the throne and started drinking booze right out of the bottle only made Mara like her more. 

The man was a bit harder to nail down; not as many scars as Boba, not as keen as Fennec. The duel blasters at his hip and the roughness of him marked him as a native, his hair made more white because of the unrelenting suns. He walked with a swagger that bordered on cocky, thumbs through his belt loops; Mara had no doubt he could draw and train those on her within a second. Din apparently knew him too, which shouldn’t have been surprising at this point, but it did throw her a little when he suddenly went “Cobb?!”

“Mando!” The man, Cobb, lifted his hand in a two finger salute and practically beamed at him. 

“What are you doing here?” It was rare that you could hear emotion through Din’s altered voice, but Mara could tell he was surprised from that alone. She made a mental note that, on the way back to Yavin 4, she should ask how the two knew each other.

“It seems these two need to catch up,” Boba spoke up, gesturing to Fennec. “We can make sure the place is up to your standards,  _ Jetii _ .” It was said sarcastically, and as Boba led the two of them deeper in, Fennec leveled a glare at them both. Mara had been right. Those eyes could cut. 

“No laser swords in front of the girls,” she warned. Luke raised an eyebrow, their eyes meeting in confusion. 

“Girls?” she asked. Boba was far ahead of them, not waiting for them to catch up, so he called back.

“The dancers and slaves that were here when we arrived. Fennec didn’t want to set them loose with no help.” He worded it as if it was an annoyance, though Mara could hear the pride soaking his words. “We’ve taken them in, it seems.” Fennec rubbed a thumb over the strap of her gun. 

“Some of them are fantastic shots,” she mused. “It helps that we use holos of Jabba as targets.”

That sentence alone made Luke let out the first real smile since stepping foot in this place. 

*

Din, in all his years, had never taken a bounty from Jabba the Hutt. He had heard the stories about the palace, it was impossible not to, but the empty room was the anthesis of all the tales. Honestly, knowing Fett, he had intended it that way. He had certainly never thought Cobb Vanth would set foot in the place; it was too far from his town, and too unsavory. Yet here he was, looking the same as he had the last time, though a bit more clean of dust. 

“You probably have some questions,” Cobb started, though in Din’s opinion he looked a bit too smug. 

“I’m wondering why Fett didn’t kill you for wearing his armor,” he said. Fett had actually threatened the kid to get the old stuff back, and Din hadn’t even used it. The fact that Cobb was standing here was a miracle in and of itself. He laughed.

“I thought he was going to. Walked straight into town, full armor, new paint job, and put the barrel of his gun right between my eyes before the bar even fully noticed him.” It sounded like Fett, even as Cobb’s expression was one of fondness. “Told me that it was insult that I had worn his armor, called me an aru-something-”

“ _ Aruetill _ ,” Din supplied. 

“That’s it! Called me that, said it had been in his family for years, and that it was fully within his rights to shoot me dead right in the town bar.” Cobb had the same look on his face that he had when he had realized he could get Din to do anything for the armor. “I shrugged, told him if he was a real warrior, he’d fight me fair. No armor at all.” Din resisted the urge to sigh. Perhaps the fact that Vanth was alive was even  _ more _ than a miracle. “He put his gun away, grabbed a bottle of the best from the bar, and poured me a drink. Said he liked my style. Asked if I wanted to make sure another Jabba or Imp take over never happened again.” He gestured around them, to the empty throne room that used to be full of criminals, slaves, and hunters. “Here I am.” 

“You realize you’re incredibly lucky he didn’t kill you.”

“He’s nicer than you think Mando. Almost sweet.” Din’s eyes opened in shock. Through the visor everything took on a blue light, lines from the scanner always overlaying the picture, he was sure the sheriff was blushing. Cobb wasn’t meeting his eyes. “Which one are you with?” he asked, inclining his head towards the tunnel Luke and Mara had disappeared down. Din was thankful, not for the first time, that his helmet hid his expression. He was sure he was a blushing mess, worse than Cobb had been only seconds ago. 

“Both,” he admitted after a moment, waiting for Cobb’s reaction. They had not yet run into anyone that had found their arrangement wrong by any means, but unfortunately, there was always a first. Instead Cobb looked at him in surprise and a little bit of awe. 

“I underestimated you!”

“And you managed to get Boba?” Cobb’s mouth thinned in a way that told Din he’d hit the mark; his friend looked about equally pleased and embarrassed. 

“It just happened. Speaking of, he’ll be disappointed. He thought you only got one of the Jedi- was going to ask the one you didn’t have if they would like to...partake.” Din tilted his head slightly, remembering the arguments him and Boba had had over com on bringing Luke here, the detached and cold way he had first addressed him. 

“He doesn’t...like Luke, though.” Cobb raised his eyebrows at him. 

“You don’t have to like someone to fu-”

“Okay! Okay!” Din held up a hand, trying to block out that image as soon as humanly possible. Maybe he could ask Mara if Jedi could erase memories. “Please don’t.” Vanth’s laughter echoed throughout the room. 

*

“Your friends are  _ amazing _ ,” Mara said, once again in the cockpit of the Razor Crest. The Tatooine suns had long since set, making the desert cold and the interior of the ship colder. Their visit had gotten much better when Fennec had taken out Boba’s private stash, something neon blue that tasted like berries and fizzed all the way down. Din held his liquor better than her, which was saying something, and Luke was wobbly enough to need to support. No matter who he was leaning against, he would bury his face in the crook of their neck and hum. In respect for his humility, Din and Mara had been taking turns. 

“I’m telling Han,” Luke slurred, “that Boba Fett is funnier than him.”

“Now,  _ that _ would cause a senate incident,” Din whispered. He always got quieter when he was drunk, which Mara had thought impossible, yet here they were. She snickered.

“No, No! Tell him Fennec is going to steal Leia from him,” she said, nearly unable to finish her sentence because of her laughter. Even Din was shaking at this point. 

“I can’t!” Luke lamented, nearly falling into a chair. “She actually  _ could! _ ” Mara snorted at that, collapsing, Din grabbing one of her arms to hold her up. 

“ _ Good!” _ she squealed, even as Din unceremoniously dropped her. “Force, I love this planet.” Luke wiped a tear at the corner of his eye, leaned forward, gave her a fond smile and a tap on the head. 

“Yeah,” he sighed, leaning back and closing his eyes. “Maybe it’s not so bad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clan Fett is made up of a gay cowboy, a mean bisexual, an even meaner lesbian, and like 20 women who do group therapy together. Sorry I don't make the rules.
> 
> Jetii- Jedi, Ge'tal- Red, Aruetill- traitor, outsider, non-Mandalorian.  
> Basically Boba calls Cobb Bitch (Affectionate). 
> 
> I have a few of these prompts written and will probably update them every couple of days. I don't have a Tumblr, but if you have any ideas for a prompt you really want to see from me, you're welcome to leave a comment!


	3. The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes seeing your boyfriend's face can be. An Experience.

He can count the number of people he has allowed to see his face on one hand. 

Din does not count his parents, because they were in the Before, when a face was just a face. When life was simpler, even happier, and there was never any reason to hide behind metal and glass and plastic. By the Creed the rest of the foundlings don’t count either, in that strange period of stagnation between being saved and swearing to the way. Even if he saw their faces as a child, he would never be able to pick them out of a crowd without their helmets.

Omera, as kind as she was, only got him to hesitate. To think for a fleeting moment that things could be peaceful instead of being a life of movement and blaster fire and wounds stitched up alone. Still, it was only a hesitation. She’s still kind; Din made sure to send a holo to her from Yavin, explaining that if she and her people ever needed help, that she could call and he would come running. Rather than only use it for emergencies, she calls him once a month and asks after him and Grogu. It’s nice, that one taste of normalcy, and he does not regret reaching out for it.

Grogu loves to see his face. He takes the helmet off whenever they’re alone now, and half the time he won’t take his eyes off him, like he is afraid Din will disappear. At the start the kid would just sit in his lap and run those little hands over his features. Memorizing, he thinks, or getting used to the fact that Din has features other than black glass and shining silver. 

Then, there is Luke Skywalker. 

All his life he has learned to be a weapon; his armor is  _ him _ in a way, and nearly every piece of the berserker can be used to kill. Luke is a weapon, not because of what he wears or wields, but simply because he  _ is _ . Luke is one of the few people he trusts Grogu’s life with, because Luke is a man that can beat an adversary without lifting a finger, can turn a droid into scrap metal by just clenching his fist. His saber can’t cut through Din’s armor, but he has no idea how to stop something invisible wrapping itself around his throat. 

The first time he showed Luke his face- and they do  _ not _ count that time on the Star Destroyer, not when emotions were so thick in the air, when he was crying in front of almost everyone he knew, when he thought he was going to  _ lose his _ -

No, they do not count that. The real first time had been when his students had left, their laughter still echoing through the air, Luke glowing with the satisfaction he always did after teaching. It had been so quiet he was sure his voice had echoed when he told Luke he wanted to show him something. Luke had covered his eyes so fast Din was sure he had given himself a blackeye with his prosthetic. He had laughed, because Luke always knew how to make him laugh, had been the first one too in a long time. 

“No, no,  _ cyar’ika,  _ I want you to look.” He had cupped Luke’s hands with his own, gently pulled them down, finally looked into those eyes that seemed such an impossible blue. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” Din didn’t know how many times he had repeated it, but he remembered Luke brushing his tears away. Kissing each section of his face before meeting his lips, and they had stood in that room, foreheads pressed against each other’s for long enough that the sunset painted them in orange. 

Then, there is Mara Jade. 

When he first met her, he was wary. She has the same rough edge to her that he has seen in others: Cara, Fennec, any number of hunters in the guild. It is the edge of someone that has done horrible things to survive, that would do them again if it came down to it, it is not the edge of someone who cares. 

She does care, if only in secret. He learns that the day Leia and Luke both act sullen and quiet, the day they both decide that they want to be alone. Din knows nothing, and it only when Mara explains that this is the anniversary of the day a planet and a teacher died; she mutters something about how the Empire took away her family too, he says he struggles to remember his parent’s faces. They talk to each other more after that, he gets to know the shields she puts up, how she may play at being tough but her eyes soften and she speaks softly as soon as a student needs help. 

When he takes his helmet off, she lets her eyes flicker to the floor, not closing them; she knows well enough that he would never, knows well enough to hesitate and ask without really asking. He had used two fingers, lifted her head up, watched those green eyes rove over his features and catalogue them. When she stopped she had made them sit side by side, rested her head on his shoulder, and simply asked him “Why?” 

Din had struggled to think of a reason, because there had been so many. That it had seemed like the right time. That the way he had been raised might have been wrong, and he was still working through what exactly that meant for him. All that came out in the end was “Because I wanted to.” She had kissed him on the forehead. 

“Okay.”

“Thank you,  _ mesh’la _ .”

“It’s you I should be thanking.” 

There are only three people that he lets see his face. 

They are the only three that deserve the privilege.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyar'ika- Darling or sweetheart   
> Mesh'la- Beauty or Beautiful 
> 
> I wanted to give Luke and Mara different pet names so that in later prompts it wouldn't get confusing, so here we are.


	4. A Drop of Golden Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a baby on Jakku, and how is Din not supposed to worry?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This oneshot contains verbal abuse of a baby, as well as referenced and attempted physical abuse of said baby; the child suffers no in story physical assault.

Jakku is worse than Tatooine, and only because this planet doesn’t have the luxury of twin sunsets. He’d come here for a job; Din still worked now and again, just to get out, get adrenaline rushing through his veins. Unlike Luke or Mara he didn’t have a media reputation, and being relatively unknown had its perks, however small they were. Arguably, having to go to Jakku to finish a hunt was not a perk, but he’d gotten credits out of it. 

The markets on Jakku were all spare parts and busted ships. Han liked to tinker more than anything; the one condition of him being able to go out like this was, as it had been dubbed, the “souvenir tax.” He’d given Leia necklaces from Naboo, Mara a stun baton from Stewjon, Lando lottery tickets from Coruscant. He figured he owed Luke or Han something. 

Stalls on Jakku are more connected than other markets, sharing awnings and tables, the wares separated by the owner's memory alone. Half the metal is rusted, or covered in blood, and Din is sure there’s one or two stolen prosthetics in the piles he passes by. He’s started to think that Jakku is the absolute worst place to pick up a gift when he hears it. The crying. 

Other patrons and owners are purposely not looking towards the sound, even as he strides towards it purposely, ignoring the way people call out and try to sell what they can to him. The booth where the sound is seems to be popular, though the crying is causing more and more of the customers to scamper away. Din comes to the window, and sees the problem instantly. 

Right under the window, wrapped in a grease and sand stained rag, is a baby. Newborn, if he had to guess, though his only experience is from the sewer and Leia’s son Ben. The baby’s pudgy face is scrunched up in discomfort, the skin red, legs and arms kicking, wailing like the universe itself has wronged them. An alien that looks more pig than man lumbers out, foreign curses dancing on his tongue as the child yells.

“Ah, shut up will ya! You’re scaring away the customers!” The words are grumbled and rough, his throat gravely from shouting often. The baby seems to understand that they are being yelled at, and their face crunches up even more, letting out perhaps the shrillest scream Din has ever heard. 

The shelves behind the alien shake; anything glass pops like a bubble, and all the various sorted metals fling themselves onto the ground in defiance of him. While the owner gasps and sputters in shock, Din is perhaps only a little surprised. Grogu has never had a Force tantrum, at least not since Din adopted him, but he’s been at least adjacent to a few of Ben Solo’s. Naturally, he would find a Force sensitive baby on Jakku. The owner curses again, lumbers over, and Din tenses. “You little bitch! Witch! That’s what you are! If you don’t shut it, I-” As he speaks, he rears a hand back, a hand that’s nearly bigger than the baby, clearly intending to hit. Din intercepts, catching the bulky wrist in his hand, imagines squeezing and twisting it just the right way so that it’ll break. 

“Don’t,” is all he says, but it is enough for fear to shine in those beady little eyes. Even if this man has never seen a Mandalorian fight, the stories are enough to get him worried. The baby stops crying, the silence ringing almost as loud as the noise, and she is squinting up at him with red rimmed eyes. 

“You want her?” the shopkeeper says, quietly. As much as there are stories about Mandalorian fighting skills, there are stories about the foundlings. He supposed him and Luke have that stereotype in common- the idea of baby snatching and indoctrination. 

“You’re  _ selling _ her?” He’s sure the disgust is clear in his tone, in the way he squeezes the man’s wrist harder. 

“She was sold  _ to _ me,” he argues. He doesn’t sound particularly saddened about it, but then again, this is Jakku. “Parent’s wanted booze money. Didn’t even bother with a name.” He laughs, turns his head down to her. “So. You want her?” Din knows that just because he scared him once, it does not mean he won’t hit her later. Besides, she is still squinting up at him with little brown eyes. He sighs. 

“How much?” 

It ends up nearly costing what he just earned for the bounty, and he isn’t sure if it’s because the man knows he cares too much or if he thinks Din wants her because of the Force power she showed off. He gives the baby to him naked; he unclips his cape and wraps her in the black fabric, tries to shade her from the sun as much as he can as he walks back to the ship. She’s probably relieved to be out of such a dirty rag, she’s cuddled into his chest and sleeping by the time he walks inside the cockpit. 

He notices, disparagingly, that some of the red he saw earlier was from sunburn instead of emotion. As soon as the autopilot is engaged, he unwraps her and smears bacta onto the burns, even as she fusses from the slight sting. The small hammock he used for Grogu is still there, and after making sure it’s secure, he places her inside. She curls up almost as soon as she sets her down, tiny hands grasping the fabric of his cloak like a lifeline. 

Luke coms almost as soon as he gets back up to the cockpit, the little hologram of him making Din’s heart lift. “You get any good gifts this time,” he teases. Din thinks of the little girl currently curled up below, is glad Luke can’t see him cringe or feel his emotions with his magic so far away.

“Ah, well...sort of.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din coming back to Yavin 4: We have baby. 
> 
> Mara and Luke: What.
> 
> Din holding Rey like a football: We have baby.


	5. Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raising kids is really interesting when half your babysitters are ghosts.

They’ve sorted out a type of system at this point. Din gets the middle of the bed, because he has the broadest chest, and that means Luke and Mara can equally use him as a pillow. The two of them have no preference on right or left, but they have their position down pat. Luke will admit he’s a clingy sleeper, he somehow manages to touch both Mara and Din when he sleeps, his head pillowed under Din’s chin and one of his hands reaching over to loosely grip one of Mara’s. Mara keeps her head level with Din’s, buries her face in his hair, finger’s loosely hanging onto Luke’s. No one can keep track of legs, all three of them tangled together, and none of them particularly care to. 

Grogu is a rather quiet child; he’s only disrupted their sleep a small number of times. Even when he does, his teachings in the Force allow him to immediately tell Mara or Luke what’s wrong. His problems, when they popped up, were easily solved and didn’t amount in any lost sleep. 

Rey is another story altogether. She’s only six months old, and obviously she cries, but unlike Grogu she can’t tell them what’s wrong. Sometimes she cries just because she wants to be held, and will cry if any of them try to lay her back down in her crib. Given the story Din told them about finding her, Luke isn’t surprised about that fact, even if it is resulting in circles forming under his eyes.

She starts to cry, the sound echoing from down the hallway, and all three of them blearily open their eyes on reflex. Luke has to admit, she’s trained them better than his student’s are. “Luuuke,” Mara mutters, sleep making her voice muffled, “it’s your turn.” 

“No,” he says, hiding his face in the crook of Din’s neck. “I got her last time, and you got her before me. It’s Din’s turn,”

“You’re thinking of last night.” Luke cracks one eye open, peers up at him. He’s talking, but his eyes certainly aren’t open. “She’s right, it’s your turn.” Luke huffs out a sigh. He had thought that the nights blurring together wouldn’t happen for another couple of weeks. He had debated asking Leia for advice, and she had been eager to help, until the twins had been born. Frankly, Luke cannot imagine the nightmare that would be two babies that can’t telepathically tell you how to get them to stop the crying. The three of them can barely handle one. 

He sits up, ready to pace around Rey’s room until she falls asleep in his arms when-

She stops crying. 

It is not the sort of crying that eventually tapers off into nothing; sometimes Rey will cry herself out like that, doing nothing but sniffling by the time one of them gets to the end of the hall. This is too abrupt, too similar to when they pick her up and she stops and gets a little quieter or stops altogether, the problem being that they are all still in bed and there is no one else in the house. 

All of them sit up when the silence rings through, two sabers zooming through the air and meeting hands. Luke, who happens to be closer to the bedside table this time around, passes Din his blaster as they stand. The hallway isn’t wide enough to accommodate all of them at once, Mara takes the lead as they hurry forward. Luke is reaching out before he even leaves the bedroom, bending the Force around him, and tries to muffle their approach to the room. He can’t sense anything solid, not an intruder that gives out actual energy. There is certainly someone  _ inside,  _ but they’re almost non-existent. Mara’s the one that opens the door, nearly kicks it open, and floods the rest of the hall with a faint blue light. 

Luke doesn’t even register which old Jedi is standing over his daughter’s crib; could be Obi-wan, Yoda, maybe even Qui-Gon. He’s too busy dropping his saber and spinning around and pushing Din’s bare face into his chest. Din lets out a surprised  _ mnph _ as he nearly drops his blaster, Mara in turn jumping up and making an X in the doorway to block whatever Luke hasn’t managed to hide in his frantic rush. 

“This a, uh, bad time?” questions the person from inside the room, and oh, Luke recognized that voice in an instant. 

“Just a minute, dad!”

“Dad?!” Din questions into his shirt. Luke cringed. He’d mentioned to Din that Jedi of the past sometimes showed up to give knowledge, or just to catch up really, but one had never appeared right in front of him. Not that it’s appearing exactly, since Luke is pretty sure Din can’t actually see Anakin. Let alone hear him. 

“Long story, but my dad’s ghost is inside with Rey, and you can’t see or hear him but-”

“Your Creed say anything about the helmet in relation to ghosts?” Mara questions from the doorway, still blocking them from view with her back. 

“I didn’t even know ghosts really  _ existed  _ until three second ago!” Luke cautiously tilts Din’s head up enough so that they can lock eyes. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing so much emotion on Din’s face, simply because Din allows him to see it. 

“Just in case?” he asks. They both know it’s less about following the orders of the Creed, and more about Din’s comfort level. Ghosts are probably far out of the comfort level, but Luke knows that not being able to go into that room and make sure Rey is alright is even farther. So, he nods, mummers to him like he doesn’t want Anakin to hear. 

“Just in case.” Calling the helmet is easy at this point, though unlike most things it takes two hands to catch. By the time Din has secured it over his face, Mara has her feet back on the ground, rolling her right shoulder. 

“That’s the best one yet,” she comments, “you didn’t scratch the drywall.” Luke winces, it had been a bit difficult to get used to the weight of it, but he liked to think he’d gotten a lot better. He ignores the fact that the image of Din in just his helmet and briefs is as attractive as it is funny, and turns to see his father still standing beside the crib.

It’s odd to see his father look so young, even as Luke himself keeps ageing. He doesn’t try to think about how Anakin will still appear in his twenties years from now, when his hair has turned gray. Rey is quiet, though she certainly isn’t asleep, and Anakin gestures sheepishly to her. “I thought, you just seem so tired, I tried to calm her before…” he cleared his throat, moving to the opposite side of the room as Din moved to the crib. He scoops up Rey, who bangs one hand against his helm with a questionable “ba _. _ ”

Her head swivels, brown eyes lighting up, her pudgy arms reaching out towards Anakin, making little grabbing motions at him. He cautiously steps closer, gives a hesitant wave, smiles fully when she excitedly goes “Aa! Aa!” at him. Din’s head turns cautiously in the direction that Rey is leaning towards, probably more curious than anything, though Anakin steps back as if he’s afraid. 

“Do you always try to stop her from crying?” Mara whispers, and his father looks to her and refuses to meet either of their eyes. 

“Not always. We, me and Obi-wan, we noticed you seemed tired. Wanted to help.” He turns around like he can look right through the wall, which for all Luke knows he might be able to, towards where Leia and Han have been staying since the birth of her twins. “Obi-wan’s with your sister.” They’ve been even worse off than the three of them, and if ghosts are what it takes to get babies to sleep, he’s never been happier to learn about life after death. 

“Did you do that with Ben?” Luke asks, because Leia never mentioned their father stopping by; never even mentioned Obi-wan looking after his namesake. Anakin looks embarrassed, and maybe even a little ashamed at the question. 

“I tried...once. Leia didn’t appreciate it.” He runs his hands over the knuckles and joints of his prosthetic hand, Luke resists the urge to run his thumb over his own, feeling that slightly puckered skin and metal. “We decided Obi-wan should take that over from now on. She likes him better.” 

He can’t say he’s surprised, him and Leia have always had differing opinions about Anakin Skywalker. It’s been the source of more than one fight, which Han constantly tells them both is an absolutely ridiculous topic to fight over. Nowadays they’ve come to a sort of “agree to disagree” stalemate. Luke’s not angry that she didn’t tell him, though he is interested to learn that Anakin has tried to talk to her before. 

Din hasn’t moved, though Luke can certainly feel his stare, simply because he’s watching him speak to empty air. Rey has quieted in his arms, head under his chin, eyelids drooping. She’s fighting to stay awake, her focus still on Anakin even as she’s losing that particular battle. Anakin turns his attention back to her, the light coming off of him brightening a little, and he smiles as she gives off a weak laugh. He looks up then, at Din. 

“I’d like to introduce myself, but…” 

“My father says it’s nice to meet you,” Luke directs at him, and he watches Din straighten slightly. Mara sighs, running a hand over her face. Really, if Anakin did want to meet Din, he could have chosen a better time. If any of them fall asleep standing up, he refuses to apologize. 

“Uh...it’s a pleasure,” Din says, his voice stiff and jilting. Anakin actually laughs at that, Luke does not decide to translate the sound. 

“I see Mara’s still the best liar,” he says, and she smirks, practically preening from the compliment. Luke rolls his eyes.

“He says Mara lies better than us.”

“That goes without saying.” 

“Is he nice? Does he treat you and the children well?” Anakin asks the questions in a barely there voice, something he’s never done. At the start of these visits he had been reserved, but never quiet. Now, the familiarity had led to him being much more forward, louder even. The quiet makes Luke wary, tense up, because he knows the question is serious. 

“Of course, to both.”

“He’s very sweet,” Mara interrupts. She has the twist to her mouth that means she’s ready to dive into the bed and steal the blankets. “Sickeningly, even.”

“You love it,  _ mesh’la _ .” Even with the faint blue light, Luke can see a little pink light up on her cheeks. She shrugs. 

“You got me there.” Anakin looks at them fondly, that sort of banter, and Luke wonders if him and his mother ever talked the same way. 

“That’s good- great, actually. I only want to see you happy.” He seemed to realize then, how late it was, that they had woken up in the middle of him trying to make sure they would sleep. “I should go. You can always call if you need me.”

“I know, father. I will.” The blue light fades until they’re standing in the dark, and Mara nods to Din to let him know they are once again alone. Just in time; Rey had finally gone back to sleep, her breathing soft. Din places her back into her crib, and they all walk as silently as they can away. 

Mara collapses into bed almost as soon as she enters the room, buries her face in her pillow. She’s out like a light before Din has even placed his helmet down; they’ve all learned to sleep anywhere they can, it’s not surprising, the men will probably follow suit. 

Their system gets a little wrecked then: Mara ends up in the middle, with Luke curled up against her left side, Din with his arm thrown around her waist on the right. Still, their legs end up tangled together like string. 

Then again, they don’t complain when morning comes, if only because both Rey and Grogu slept through the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know for a joke the fandom has Anakin hating Han and/or Din and handing out shovel talks left and right but lets be honest. He'd honestly just want his kids to be happy and have everything he couldn't. 
> 
> Also even if he hated Han, Padme would be like "babe. that's you in a different timeline," and he'd have an identity crisis.


	6. The Apprentice Lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke meets an old family friend.

It is on the most normal days that the world gets ripped out from under you. It had been a relatively normal, albeit stressful, day on the moisture farm when Luke learned his father was a Jedi Knight; and when he came back to his childhood home and found a burned out shell that smelled of meat. It had been a normal job for Din when he saw Grogu for the first time; a normal day when he decided he had reached his line and taken the child back. It had been a normal day, by galactic standards, when the Emperor was murdered and the Empire dissolved; when Mara learned that she could run, and no one would try to stop her. At this point, it would be safe to assume that if it felt like a completely normal day, then you should prepare for the worse. Or the best. It all really depended on how it worked out in the long run. 

The day Luke Skywalker learns about the existence of Ahsoka Tano, it is completely normal. He teaches, he trains, he goes back home. He learns only by chance, because Grogu wanted frogs for dinner, and they didn’t have any. 

All three of them would readily admit that they didn’t know how to cook many things, but they knew enough to get by. Luke knows a lot about dehydrated food and making nonperishables into something that tastes a lot better than nonperishables normally do, Din probably makes the best soup on Yavin, and Mara know how to cook meat just enough to be juicy but not enough to be too hard to tear apart with your teeth. Between the Skywalker twins, there is probably enough baby food to feed an army; the only problem is, Grogu doesn’t eat baby food. Actually, he’s probably eaten everything except baby food. He preferred frogs, out of everything they’d given him, but they were hard to find in a way that could be served and stored. 

The little guy has quite the throwing arm when he uses the Force, and Luke is busy wiping sauce off Rey’s face when he overhears what Din is saying to him. Rey is, naturally, laughing at the bowl her older brother has made explode with his mind. Din is wiping sauce out of Grogu’s ears, chastising him in a gentle tone. “Come on buddy, we’ve talked about using your magic when you’re angry,” he says, and Grogu does look a little down trodden when he does. “Remember what the nice lady said? It’s bad, and you should talk it out when you get frustrated.” Luke, wiping the baby’s face, and Mara, wiping the table, both pause. 

“The nice lady?” Luke asks, because Grogu knows both Mara and Leia’s names, and Din has never referred to either of them like that. 

“Hm? Oh, a Jedi that told us how to contact you.” Din shrugged. “I figured you would know her.” Luke’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth, Mara looks at him like she’s ready to catch him if he falls.

“How old was she?” he asks, and hopes. Din pauses, seems to be doing math in his head, takes his hand and places it about half-way down his chest while muttering to himself in rapid Mando’a.

“She was a togurta, and judging by the lekku...I’d say in her forties, maybe late forties,” he says, smiles fondly. “She was the one that told me Grogu’s name for the first time.” Said little gremlin demands Din’s attention, and Luke doesn’t even notice that Mara has taken Rey, the little girl fussing over the fact that Luke isn’t giving her any love. He swallows and feels like his throat is filled with sand. 

“What was her name?”

“Ah...Ahsoka, I think. Ahsoka Tano.” Dins notices then, the ashen look on Luke’s face, the way that he’s looking at him with far too much intensity. “Is something wrong,  _ cyra’ika _ ?

“No-it’s…” Luke sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “I need to talk to my father.” 

*

Summoning ghosts is a tricky part of Jedi training, mostly because the ghost will only really show up if they want too. Anakin has a good track record of coming when asked, trying to make up for everything before in any way he can, but it is surprising when Obi-wan answers him too.

The school is empty at this time of night, he’s only turned a few of the lights on, and the shining blue of them makes the room even brighter. Anakin smiles, he always smiles whenever Luke calls him; Obi-wan a bit more withdrawn. He’s noticed that Obi-wan fluctuates in his appearance, sometimes appearing as the old man he remembers from the desert, sometimes younger with more strength behind his shoulders and less lines around his eyes. Luke doesn’t mind, it still looks like Obi-wan, and he seems a bit more at ease when he shows up like that. 

“I need to ask you something,” he says right away, before either of them speak. He feels too keyed up, like he needs to move or he will forget the name that Din has told him. Even as he replays it in his mind:  _ Ahsoka Tano, Ahsoka Tano, Ahsoka Tano _ \- the link he needs between his Jedi order and that of the Republic days. Anakin and Obi-wan look at each other, he catches the faint beat of concern in the air, before they nod and wait for him to talk. “Din might have found a Jedi th-that managed to escape the Purge.” 

“That’s...fantastic,” Anakin says, though his light has dimmed a little, from guilt; the conversation about Jedi’s death is something they have had before.

“There were temples all over the galaxy,” Obi-wan says gently, because he seems to know exactly what Luke’s plan is. “If we recognize the name, we’ll gladly help you.” Luke breathes out a sigh. Sometimes, with him and his mash-up of students, it’s difficult to remember that the Jedi used to be so expansive. He knows every name of every child that has ever walked through his doors- he could not imagine never having that mental list at his disposal. 

“Okay. Her name is Ahsoka Tano.” The response is immediate. Anakin looks like he is about to drop through the floor, his eyes glazing over, his stance ridged. In all the time he has known him, Obi-wan has reacted to every question and situation with calmness. Now, he lets out a gasp like he has been punched in the stomach; he looks like he is about to cry. “She’s alive,” he keeps saying to himself, “Force above,  _ she’s alive. _ ” 

“Who is she,” he asks, because they know her too well; they love her, he can see it in their eyes. 

“She was…” Anakin's voice is hoarse, and he looks like he is about to break apart. He may constantly look like he’s in his early twenties, but Luke can see all fifty years on his shoulders now. “She was my padawan,” he says. Luke feels lightheaded, like he needs to sit, but he can’t and so he paces instead. He moves back and forth, wringing his hands together, and laughs. 

“This is amazing,” he says into the quiet. “She was  _ your padawan _ ? She can teach me so much! About the order, ab-about you two and mom and-”

“I tried to kill her.” It is a death knell, ringing out and echoing. Luke feels like the souls of all the other Jedi snuffed out before their time fill the room, almost suffocating in the knowledge of their existence. In this, at least, it appears him and Obi-wan are both ignorant- Kenobi looks at Anakin in a mix of fear and disappointment. 

“You did  _ what? _ ” he whispers, and takes a step back; the tone makes Anakin flinch like he has been hit. He runs his hands through his hair, his fingers tangle in it, he tugs at the strands like the pain will ground him. Luke isn’t sure if he even can feel pain anymore. 

“It was when I was, you know,” he says, and he does not say the name because neither Obi-wan or Luke really need or want to hear it. “Ahsoka was helping the Rebellion, she tried to get through to me, but…”

“You were too full of hatred,” Luke says, and his father nods, his shoulders slumped like he wants to disappear. He very well could, but Luke knows he won’t, because he needs to face it as much as it makes him hurt.

“She’s alive, and doing well?” Obi-wan interjects, and Luke can tell the two of them are going to discuss it later, wherever it is they go when they aren’t materializing in the material world. Luke shrugs at the questions.

“Din said something to the effect. Saving people from what is left of the Empire.” They both smile at that, the same type of smile Din gets when Grogu excels at his training. “He said she dual wields, that she’s a fantastic warrior. Coming from him, that’s a great compliment. I want to find her.”

“You should,” Anakin says. “She deserves a home, an Order. Peace.” Luke gets the sense that this is something he’s thought about a lot, as much as he can. 

“I plan to. I just have to get to Corvus first.”

*

“Are you sure you’re alright staying?” Luke asks, brow furrowed in worry, and she resists the urge to pat him on the cheek and tease him about it. He worries about everything, at least partially, and she’s always talking about how she needs challenges. 

“I’ll be  _ fine _ ,” she says, as Rey takes her braid and starts to lazily chew on it. Luke winces, even as she makes no move to stop her, but he’s always cared about hair a lot more than her. “Besides, I’m not going to leave Han and Leia with four babies to look after.” Said little family is walking towards them to see the two men off, each parent with a baby strapped to their chest, Ben running between them. 

“Aunt Mara!” he screams, and he always greets her with this level of excitement, even though he sees her during school at least once a day. “Grogu!” He leans down and picks him up, laughing as Grogu places his hands on his face. Ben’s already of the opinion that his new siblings, and cousin, are annoyingly loud and can’t play with him; Grogu has therefore become his default favorite family member. “Hi Uncle Din,” is absentmindedly added when said man comes down from the ship. 

“Ready to go when you are,” Din states, rapping a knuckle against the hull, the ding ringing out across the field. 

“Your new wizard isn’t gonna be a toddler this time, huh kid?” Han says, even as bags under his eyes show that he’s probably about to pass out on the grass. Honestly, Mara knows how he feels. Luke rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Han. She’s even older than you,” Luke says. He’s trying to sound light, but she can feel the nervousness radiating off him, noticing how he’s stopping himself from fidgeting as he stands. Her and Leia lock eyes, mentally debate who’s going to take this; Leia nods slightly and steps forward. 

“She’ll be happy to see you Luke, any Jedi would,” she says. The baby on her chest, Mara’s pretty sure it’s Jacen, starts fussing, only stopping when she gives him her finger to grip onto. “But if she attacks you, disarm before you give the New Order spiel.” Luke flushes. 

“I don’t have a spiel!”

“Yes you do! You made me listen to the first three versions,” Han accuses. Jaina lets out a gurgled laugh at that; Mara wouldn’t be surprised if Han accidentally projected his humor right at her. Luke throws up his hands.

“I had to make sure it sounded good! It’s not a spiel! It’s...It’s a  _ presentation _ ,” he argues. Leia rolls her eyes, and Han looks like he’s ready to get into an argument for the fun of it, and she intercedes before they’re delayed any longer. 

“Okay, okay, it’s time for them to go.” She steps forward, gives Luke a fast kiss on the corner of his mouth, Rey reaches forward and pats him on the cheek. “You two be careful,” Mara says, as she presses her forehead against Din’s. 

“Always are,” he says, gently tapping Rey's head with own. She lets out a squeal of happiness at the sensation. Mara raises an eyebrow at him. “Most of the time. As long as you are.” 

“Oh yeah, we’ll take good care of Rey and Googoo,” Han says. 

“Dad! His name is Grogu!”

“Right. Gregory.”

“Daaaaaaaaad!” Mara inclines her head to the two Solo boys. 

“We’ll be fine.

*

Corvus is about as barren and dead as he remembers, no matter that it was technically classified as a forest planet. Luke looks hurt as soon as he disembarks from the ship; he remembers Luke telling him that the Force and nature were heavily intertwined, Din cannot imagine what a dying planet feels like to him. 

The settlement is easy to find, Din has a good memory when it comes to his jobs, even if Ahsoka was not technically a job. Unlike the outer reaches, the forest near the settlement has been replanted, sprouts of green and young trees reaching toward the sky. Luke gets happier the closer they are, a slight bounce in his step that Din appreciates, and his urgentness disappears when the villagers greet them at the gate. The governor, a man that remembers his helmet at a glance, is open to their questions.

They talk well of Ahsoka, even though she isn’t there. She stayed for a while to help them back on their feet, entertaining the children with her white blades and acrobatics; he watches Luke’s eyes shine with hope the more positive talk he hears. “She left,” the mayor says, “with another Mandalorian. Young, female. More colorful than you.” It would have peaked his interest before there was a saber hilt attached to his hip at all times. He doesn’t want another challenge to the death from whoever this woman is. 

“Did she leave a com number? Any form of communication?” Luke sounds as calm as ever, and Din may not be able to feel emotions like they can, but he gets the sense that if he could Luke would be roiling. 

“She did, but we’re only supposed to call if more Imperials come to reclaim the land.” He gives it to them anyway, because he trusts Din, neither of them debate what they would have done if the call sign hadn’t been given to them. 

They send a message out from the ship, one that explains who Luke is as much as they can with the limited message recording time. Din’s pretty sure all Luke would have to do would mention the name Skywalker and she would come running, like the majority of the galaxy, but Luke saves that for last. 

Both of them nearly jump out of surprise when they get a response within ten minutes. It’s text instead of video, but Luke’s simile is so blinding Din can’t find it in himself to mad at Ahsoka for not calling. Those sky blue eyes look at him with so much happiness, Din almost forgets to breathe.

“How far is Lothal?” 

*

“You know, whoever invented baby food has got to be rich,” Leia muses. 

“They could have made it so it didn’t stain,” Mara hisses, looking over the two of them. Both women are covered in smears of green and orange, the mouths of the children aren’t doing much better. “I swear they’re throwing it at us on purpose.”

“At least they aren’t throwing it at us with their minds.”

“Yet.”

“Hm,” Leia hums, deciding to dislike that word, “true. Where are Ben and Grogu?”

“Playing hide and seek,” Han says, coming in from the backyard. They might be smeared in baby food, but he is covered in twigs and leaves. “Playing it too well.” Mara and Leia exchange a glance.

“We could find them with-”

“No! I will not be bested by a baby and my own son.”

“I remember Din telling me Grogu is fifty, if that makes you feel better dear.”

“It doesn't!” he spins on his heel and marches back outdoors. “Come here...pspspspspspsp.” Mara stifles a laugh at the look that crosses Leia’s face. 

“They aren’t loth-cat’s Han!”

“They’re close enough!”

*

Lothal looks like the most normal planet in the galaxy, considering the places he’s gone for jobs before. The fields and rising white buildings are shining compared to other outer rim worlds that he’s seen, though Din has no experience with what the cities are actually like. Leia had sent them a com, short and rushed, about how Lothal had been the start of her adoptive father’s rebel movement; and while whoever the crew of the so called ship Ghost had been, Leia hadn’t been able to compress so much data while she was so busy. “I promise the full story later,” she’d written. Luke was so nervous about meeting Ahsoka that Din was pretty sure he didn’t mind. 

The old ship that Ahsoka and her companion were using was settled in on the fields, crushing the grass beneath it. Din recognized her silhouette- the slightly fluttering cape, the unnatural height of her hooded head due to her montrals. Whoever the Mandalorian girl was, she watched them disembark and then headed back into the ship, though Din was sure that she would be watching in case the two of them tried to threaten her. Then again, maybe she wouldn’t. After seeing Ahsoka fight, he knows she can take care of herself perfectly well. 

When they stand face to face, Din can tell Luke’s having trouble even saying a single word. Luke is staring at her in awe, taking in her face as she lowers the hood, his eyes flicking to the two curved handles attached to her hips. He is facing a Jedi older than him that is not dead, that is flesh and blood and has lived through the horrors ghosts have nightmares of. Din does not need the Force to know Luke is intimidated, like he is once again nineteen and holding a lightsaber for the first time. 

Ahsoka is looking at him like he’s the miracle, like he should actually be dead. Her eyes are flickering over each of his features, like Luke is about to disappear at any moment, that he may turn to smoke. Din assumes she’s mapping Anakin’s face over Luke’s, he did the same when they managed to scrounge up a holopic of the past Knight. He needs to say something, because honestly the silence is starting to become stifling, and if he doesn’t maybe they’ll all sit here and do nothing for hours. 

“I found a Jedi,” he says, and he’s never considered himself to be a loud man; no one has ever considered him a loud man, but he feels like his modulated voice can be heard by everyone on the entirety of the planet. Ahsoka’s face finally changes and she smiles, laughs. 

“You did.” There are tears lining the bottom of her eyes, silver that she wipes away with her thumb. “I didn’t expect you to find a Skywalker.”

“I didn’t expect to find a baby version of Yoda,” Luke says, his voice creaky, even as he pushes the joke forward. To make the ice break more, to get himself back on even footing. 

“You know Yoda?” Ahsoka asks, and she looks a little lost. 

“He taught me.” Luke shrugs. “Well, sort of. Obi-wan did first.” Ahsoka slumps like her strings have been cut, and for once, she actually appears as old as she is. 

“Obi-wan? He made it out?” The air feels like glass, and Luke has such a look of hurt in his eyes; he is about to toss a stone into it. 

“He survived the Purge, he protected me for nineteen years. He was teaching me, but…” Luke swallows. Every sound feels elevated. “Vader killed him.” Something hard and flinty comes into Ahsoka’s eyes at the name of Vader, her hands twitch towards her belt as if the word alone can summon the threat. Din didn’t know the name until Luke told him the story, and the hatred is justified as far as he’s concerned, though he knows Luke will never really feel the same way. 

“Vader, you know he was…” Ahsoka hesitates.

“Yes, I know he was my father. He told me himself. He’s dead.” The last sentence is added as an afterthought, like he needs her to know Vader will not hunt her anymore, if he ever stopped before he became obsessed with Luke. 

“Were you the one that killed him?” She says it gently, teeters on the edge of walking forward and reaching towards him, staying back if the wound is still fragile. Din reaches over and slips his hand into Luke’s, squeezes, makes a note to himself that the next time they are alone he will trace the lightning shaped scars across his torso with reverence. 

“No. He...Palpatine was killing me,” he whispers, and Ahsoka leans forward to hear, “he was torturing me. Father wouldn’t, he couldn’t watch him kill me.” He looks Ahsoka dead in the eyes, as if to let her know he is telling the absolute truth, that he would never lie about this. “He threw Palpatine down the reactor shaft, he killed the Emperor, and got electrocuted in the process. He didn’t last long after that.” 

“He...Anakin…” she can’t seem to find the words, stumbles forward a step. Those tears she wiped away before slide down her face freely now. “He came back. He came back.” 

“I...I have so much to ask you,” Luke says, “I started a new Order on Yavin 4. I would be honored if you would just, stay for a while, maybe, if-”

“Yes. I, I need to talk to Sabine first, but, yes.” Ahsoka hurries to the ramp of her ship, sprinting as fast as Luke and Mara move in combat. Luke collapses against Din’s side, and he supports his weight without question. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Not completely. But I will be.”

*

She can already tell this Order will be better than the first. 

Ahsoka sees it in the way Luke acts with his wife and the Mandalorian, with his sister. They both have children, counting little Grogu, and it’s so odd. She imagines Master Windu finding out the new Jedi Order supports marriage and caring a blaster around, and laughs privately to herself. The students look at her in awe, they gasp when she ignites her sabers and their white glow washes over everything. They whisper excitedly about how they want to learn to dual wield, she feels herself glow with pride. 

She says the name Padme once, and both Luke and Leia bury her in questions. She answers, because thinking of those times makes her soul feel lighter. When she brings up how often Obi-wan threw himself into danger Luke’s mouth hangs open and Leia’s eyes widen. She recites how fierce Padme was in the senate, and Leia’s husband looks at her and says “That certainly sounds like someone I know.” Already, Ahsoka is trying to figure out how to contact Rex, because she feels like the twins are people he needs to meet. 

They give her a room in the temple, nicely furnished, and tell her she can stay as long as she wants. She waits until she’s alone to try it. 

“Master...Anakin, we need to talk.” Luke has told her about ghosts, how they sometimes come when called. She has a list of people she will try to contact when she can: Obi-wan, Plo, Shaak, Aayla, Barriss. If not to talk to them, to see if they are even dead, but she needs to have this conversation first. The darkness behind her eyelids lightens, and she opens then, her knees turn to jelly. He looks exactly the same as when she last saw him. He looks younger than her. 

“He found you,” Anakin says, and the pride is unmissable. Still, anger sparks in her chest like a flame. She wonders how much it will burn down.

“He told me what you did, how you killed Palpatine. Does he know what you did when you turned, that you hunted Jedi? Th-that you betrayed us all?” She hates the way her voice cracks even as Anakin nods, even as he winces like she is twisting the knife. “I- I said I wouldn’t leave you, and you tried to kill me.  _ Force, _ Anakin, I should hate you! I should never want to see you again.” She knows that Obi-wan has done something like forgiveness, Luke told her that they more than often appear together than apart. It's hard to imagine how he could forgive. She knows she's crying, cannot find it in herself to care. 

“I can’t say sorry enough, I probably never will. I’m trying.”

“I wish we could start over,” she hisses. That would be so much simpler to imagine a world where the Empire never existed. Where Palpatine died early. He laughs weakly, and it makes her chest throb. 

“You can say that again. Maybe, we can try, if you want?” 

“How?” He looks awkward, more awkward than when him and Padme were trying to pretend they were obviously in a relationship. That thought alone sends another pang through her chest, like a blaster shot. Anakin breathes in, looks at her with more kindness than their last meeting ever held. 

“It’s good to see you again Snips. I missed you.” She wipes the tears away. There is still that spark of anger, but they have time, and not all of it can be hate filled.

“I missed you too, Skyguy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka my beloved 
> 
> Cheers to the people on Tumblr that write about how Han would be possibly the...best/worse babysitter for Grogu. Heavily influenced that little snippet.


	7. 3 AM Discussions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mara and Din have a chat about the lost Empire.

The cot in the Razor Crest is probably the most uncomfortable bed she’s ever slept in. Din actually refers to it as the rack, since he states it's more likely to injure your back than keep you comfy, and it barely fits two people. They’ve certainly tried to make it fit three, on the rare moments when they all head out on a mission together, but it’s been unanimously decided that two is the comfortable max. 

Mara stretches out, her head nearly brushing the wall, her side throbbing. The upside to be a former smuggler, aside from knowing all the best places in the galaxy to party, is that she knows all the best hidey-holes. There are certain people she used to work with that she’s happy to see behind bars, and dating a bounty hunter means she can point him in the right direction. Han knows some even worse than her old business partners, and between them they keep Din relatively busy. 

The newest catch had put up more of a fight than either of them had expected. One would think being faced with a Jedi and a Mandalorian would make someone surrender faster, but no dice. Mara had ended up thrown into a tree; maybe breaking one of her ribs, but for now a wrap would keep her in one piece until they could get to the medical on Yavin. Din had come out of it worse off, with a sprained wrist. Mara had been able to splint it with the supplies in the hold, but they were taking extra care to not jostle each other as they settled. 

“That could have gone better,” Din says to the darkness. It’s punctuated by the normal lights that ships have, the soft sound of the autopilot echoing through the room. 

“Better than that time we all fought that Trandoshan hoard,” she says. “Luke ended up with a broken arm, remember?” For as botched as that might have gone, the memory still causes Din to smile. He tilts his head towards her in agreement, both of them just a little too tired to talk about anything important. They’ve reached that point where their bodies are heavy and muscles sore; too much adrenaline and racing thoughts keeping them from sleeping. Mara listens to the ship move and work around her, lets her head rest and then clicks her tongue. “You wanna hear my theory?”

“Is this another government theory?”

“Yeah, but it’s fun.” Din hesitates before rolling over to face her, cradling his bad wrist against his stomach. 

“Go on.” She smiles, leans over, supports her head on her fist. She knows before she’s even halfway through sleep might start slurring her words, but it’ll be worth it. 

“So you know how there can only ever be two Sith right?” Din nods. She remembers when Luke first explained the debacle between the Jedi and Sith, how Din said it was a horrible battle strategy to follow the rule of two. “So, if the apprentice kills the master, and then becomes the master- Vader became the master after he killed Palpatine.”

“I’m with you so far,” Din mutters, his eyes slightly lidded. 

“Then, Vader technically became the Emperor when he killed him.” Mara waits, let it settle. Din’s eyebrows scrunch together.

“Okay.”

“But, Vader was all about making Luke his apprentice. So, when Vader died.” She pauses here, builds the suspense. “Does that mean Luke is technically, by Imperial standards, the Emperor?” Honestly, she should be doing jazz hands, but she doesn’t want to move and the cot is too cramped. 

“But it was Palpatine’s, ah, lightening,” Din points out, waving the fingers on his good hand to get the facts across, “that really killed Vader. Doesn’t that mean it just reverses back to the old guy?”

“I don’t...think so?” Mara bites her lip. “I might have to ask Anakin about that later.” Din laughs weakly at that. 

“Could you imagine our Luke as the Emperor?”

“As a Sith Emperor?” Din hesitates, considers it, gives a slight nod. They both go silent, Din’s brown eyes meet her green.

“We...should not be finding that idea as attractive as we are, right?” 

“Nah, I think it’s fine.” Mara’s eyes widen and she almost sits up, but the later it gets the more the cot seems comfortable. “Wait, does that mean we’re technically Emperors?”

“Wouldn’t you classify as an Empress?”

“I mean, technically, but that’s details. You didn’t answer the question.”

“Mara, I don’t even want to be a king. You think I’d want to be an Emperor?”

“You wouldn’t have to rule or anything. Just look pretty.” She makes sure to smile and lock eyes with him as she winks. “You already do that well.” He reaches over, takes her hand, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on it. 

“Bold words coming from you,  _ mesh’la _ ,” he whispers, and she can’t help the smile that crosses her face. They’ve given up holding their heads up, and the darkness seems to have worked together with sleep to take them down. 

“Hmm, still.”

“Sleep. You can bring up your theory to Leia in the morning,” he teases. 

“Can not wait for that. Especially because then we have to consider what would happen if Leia was Empress. With Han as Emperor.” 

She drifts off to the sound of Din’s soft laughter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mara knows way too much about the Empire and Din knows absolutely nothing about the Empire- therefore their pillow talk is weird conspiracy theories like this. They bring them up to Han and he's like "Yeah okay." and does NOT ask anymore questions.


End file.
